


Dancing to the Sound of Light

by SunnySidesofBlue



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 16:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13127634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnySidesofBlue/pseuds/SunnySidesofBlue
Summary: Jazz decides Prowl needs some time off. In hindsight, Prowl absolutely agrees.





	Dancing to the Sound of Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wicked3659](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/gifts).



> This fic is a gift for the wonderful Wicked3659. Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday!
> 
> Also, big thanks to Rizobact for proofreading. =)

“Jazz…”

Prowl’s tone was somewhere between amused and annoyed as he found himself practically towed through the base by his energetic partner. He had long since ceased being surprised by Jazz’s antics but the indignity of being dragged through the corridors like this…

“Jazz, slow down! I already said I’m coming but I would very much appreciate knowing just where we are going.”

“Out,” was the less than helpful reply he got and Prowl just barely managed to resist the urge to roll his optics. Jazz had been _Mysterious_ – and yes, when applied to Jazz that word was capitalized – for several days now, but Prowl had expected his lover was simply planning yet another episode in the never-ending prank war with Sideswipe and haven’t given the matter much thought.

A mistake, apparently.

“You do know my break is over in a breem and a half, and that I’m on duty until third shift, right?” he asked mildly. “So wherever you’re planning to drag me off to it had better not be very far away.”

“Nope, you’re not,” Jazz countered with a cheerful and slightly mischievous push of his field. “Better recheck yer schedule, Prowler.”

“Jazz, I _made_ the schedule, I’m very well aware of-”

“Just check it.”

With a sigh, still torn between amusement and frustration, Prowl did as asked. Then he checked again.

His afternoon, evening and morning the following orn were all completely empty. He checked the scheduling logs and noticed that the change was signed by Optimus, not even two breems ago. Or at least it looked like Prime’s signature; Prowl wouldn’t put it past his occasionally infuriatingly irreverent mate to fake something like that if it suited his purposes. Just to err on the side of caution he pinged the Autobot commander, who answered right away.

_“Yes, Prowl?”_

_“Sir, did you just make some changes to my work schedule?”_

_“Yes, I did.”_

No explanation. No questions. No lecture about the importance of downtime and the veritable mountain of accrued overtime Prowl had. Just a simple acknowledgement.

This was definitely a conspiracy of some sort.

 _“I see…”_ Prowl said slowly over the comm. _“I only wanted to make sure. Thank you, sir, and have a good orn.”_

Cutting the call Prowl returned his focus to Jazz’s smiling, angelically innocent ( _ha, as if!_ ) face and tried to look stern in spite of the more tender feelings that weaved their way through his spark. It was obvious that Jazz had arranged this to give the two of them some quality time together, and even though Prowl wasn’t generally fond of surprises he trusted in Jazz’s ability both to come up with something he was likely to enjoy, and to make sure their absence from the Ark wouldn’t cause problems. Still, since his partner was acting all innocent, Prowl naturally had to respond in kind.

“It would appear someone has been meddling with my carefully arranged schedules,” he said, face perfectly straight and with the tiniest hint of annoyance in his voice. “Now who’s going to take charge of the inventory report tomorrow morning? And the compilation of the tactical data for the human collaboration unit? Not to mention the review of the twins’ punishment detail?”

“Well, I overheard Smokey ‘n Trailbreaker talkin’ about the collab,” Jazz said casually, “and I clearly remember Red Alert bein’ very eager to put the twins in their place, which I’m sure will take care of the first issue as well.”

Or, in other words, Jazz had checked each item on Prowl’s to-do list and made sure every task was assigned to someone else while they were away.

Finally allowing himself a faint smile Prowl let a hint of _appreciation/gratitude_ flash through his EM field. “Very well, then, since I apparently have nowhere to be and nothing to do for the upcoming joors, how about giving me a response to my original question; where exactly are we going?”

They had reached the entrance by now and Jazz turned left and kept leading him towards the makeshift landing strip the fliers used when they needed to take off or land in altmode. Unsurprisingly, a certain white shuttle just happened to be waiting there, and Prowl caught himself wondering just how many mechs Jazz had involved in this scheme of his.

“It’s a surprise,” the saboteur replied, his field rife with excitement, anticipation and self-satisfaction in that particular way only a special operations mech guarding a secret could pull off.

Prowl huffed in pretend-annoyance but allowed himself to be dragged up Skyfire’s ramp and then pushed into one of the shuttle’s seats, and after a few words of greeting and an in all likelihood deliberately cryptic remark from Jazz they were on their way.

“So,” Prowl said as Jazz made himself comfortable opposite him, “any chance of you revealing how far we have to travel, or do you intend to keep me completely in the dark?” He knew very well how much Jazz thrived on keeping secrets and didn’t for one moment expect an informative answer, but given all the effort his partner had obviously put into this arrangement he was more than willing to let him revel in his secrecy.

“Not too far,” the other black-and-white replied with a grin, even as he pulled a box from subspace and placed it on the table between them. Prowl’s doorwings gave a happy little flutter when he saw what it was: a chess set. “But we should manage at least one game before we’re there.”

***

They were halfway through their third game when Skyfire announced they were about to land. As usual – and as had undoubtedly been Jazz’s intention – Prowl had lost himself completely in the game and forgotten to keep track of time as well as position, so when he re-surfaced and checked his GPS his reaction was one of pleasant surprise.

They had reached the northernmost parts of the continent, and when Skyfire lowered his ramp to let them out Prowl saw that they had landed on a small plateau at the edge of a fairly large body of frozen water. Stepping out in the sunshine Prowl took a moment to simply enjoy the cold air against his plating. It was nowhere near cold enough to be uncomfortable for a Cybertronian but the air was much drier and clearer than what he’d become used to for Earth and it was a very refreshing change.

He listened absently while Jazz made arrangements with Skyfire for pickup later – much later – focusing instead on the surroundings. It was very quiet and none of his sensors could pick up the slightest hint of human presence, which was a relief. Prowl didn’t exactly mind dealing with humans but it did get tedious to constantly watch your words and actions – not to mention your pedes – and it was impossible to relax fully when they were around. The constant buzz of their primitive telecommunication networks was another minute but ever-present irritant, especially for someone with a sensor suite like Prowl’s, and it was pure joy to be able to let everything run at 100% without being bothered by white noise. This place felt almost like an uninhabited planet and Prowl decided he would have to thank his mate very thoroughly for choosing this particular destination for their outing.

He heard Skyfire take off and turned to address his mate… and was met with a shower of snow in his face. It came so unexpectedly that he reflexively backpedaled, lost his footing and ended up flat on his aft in the snow, a look of astonishment on his face.

“Aww, come on Prowler, don’t tell me ya didn’t expect that!”

There was a mischievous glint in Jazz’s visor and his field was brimming with playfulness as he offered Prowl a hand to help him up. Prowl took it and, once his processor had caught up, had to admit that his mate had a point. Since when was Jazz + snow likely to end in anything but shenanigans?

“Well, I must confess I got somewhat distracted by the scenery,” he admitted with a twitch of his lips. “You’ve really picked a wonderful location.”

“Yeah, I figured ya might enjoy a bit of peace and quiet,” Jazz said, then added with a grin, “or at least relative silence and guaranteed privacy. There’s literally nothin’ but forests and mountains for miles and miles ‘round here, and Skyfire scanned the area while flyin’ in to make sure there weren’t any surprise visitors. No-one’s gonna disturb us.”

Prowl felt warmth bloom in his spark and let his appreciation show in his field. Jazz knew him so well and _understood him_ in a way no-one else even came close to. Even though Jazz’s own needs went in the complete opposite direction – he got stir crazy from too much quietude and thrived on noise and chaos – the fact that he cared enough to arrange moments like this never ceased to amaze Prowl.

“Thank you,” he said.

For a moment they just stood there looking at each other, hands still connected, then Jazz’s smile turned mischievous again. “So, does this mean I’m forgiven for throwing snow at ya?”

Prowl caught on immediately, recognizing the subharmonics in his mate’s tone, and straightened to his full height even as he let go of Jazz’s hands, assuming his official voice. “I am not sure it’s quite that simple, Jazz. Attacking a superior officer is a serious offence after all.” He kept his face straight but didn’t bother to keep his amusement from bleeding into his field. “I might have to punish you.”

“Scrap, and here I was hopin’ ya’d give me special treatment. Isn’t there’s anything I can do to convince ya to look the other way, just this once? I’m sure we can come up with some kind of arrangement.”

“Are you trying to bribe me now?”

“Maybe? Does it work?”

Prowl gave an indignant rev of his engine. “Of course not! You are only adding to your crime and if your attitude does not change I’ll have no choice but to place you under arrest.”

He made a hint of moving to grab Jazz by the arm, only for said mech to dodge him, dance out of the way, transform and, with a whoop of joy and a defiant “ya’ll have to catch me first!” peel off down the slope towards the frozen lake. Feeling his old enforcer protocols kick in and send a surge of anticipation through his entire frame, Prowl transformed and took up pursuit, using the saboteur’s tracks through the snow to facilitate his descent. Once he reached the lake and after a quick scan to make sure that the ice really was thick enough to carry them he gunned his engine and accelerated to near his top speed, hot on the cackling saboteur’s trail. Under normal circumstances it would have been madness to drive that fast on a surface with such poor traction but there was literally nothing to collide with out here and they could spin and fishtail to their sparks’ delight.

Darkness fell within an hour, the short northern winter day giving way to a cloudless night, but the two black and whites kept racing. At some point they dropped the silly enforcer & delinquent roleplay to simply revel in the speed, the freedom and the challenge. It was not until the moon rose, bathing the surroundings in bluish light from the near perfect semicircle, that they finally slowed down and, after a signal from Jazz, headed back towards the shore. They were both tired and low on fuel, fans working hard to expel heat from their frames in spite of the cold air, but their fields were relaxed and rife with contented joy.

“That was awesome!” Jazz finally said as they reached land. Theatrically he flopped down on his back in the snow, enjoying the cold against his heated plating. “We should totally do this more often.”

“Agreed,” Prowl said, stretching and flexing his doorwings to make sure nothing got kinked during the cooldown. With the ongoing war and ever unpredictable Decepticon activity to account for they may not have as many opportunities as he would like but a few times a year should be a realistic goal. “I really hope you brought some fuel though, or I fear I might drop into stasis before we get back to the base.”

“Course I did!” Jazz replied, heaving himself up from the snow with somewhat less than his usual grace. Walking over to one of the larger snowdrifts that had been created by the wind sweeping snow in from the frozen lake he first pulled a large tarp out of subspace and draped it over the mound, prodding it here and there until it formed a decent seat. While sitting directly in the snow was comfortable it was less than ideal to get meltwater into all the tiny crevasses on their frames and Prowl very much appreciated his mate’s foresight.

Next the saboteur produced a crate that would serve as a makeshift table, and from said crate he pulled four large cubes of energon and a small box of gelled treats. Then he turned to Prowl again, bowed and made an elaborate gesture towards the simple seating arrangement, as if he were a waiter at a fancy restaurant.

“Ta daa!” he said triumphantly, even as he reached for Prowl’s hand. “Allow me to welcome you to the fanciest energon place this side of the arctic circle!”

Which was technically true, Prowl mused as he accepted the invitation with a smile and made himself comfortable on the tarp.  His mate handed him one of the cubes and then joined him, giving the Praxian’s elbow a push until Prowl moved it and allowed the slightly shorter mech to snuggle up against his side.

“Do you have any idea how adorable you are when you’re in snuggling mode?” Prowl said, giving Jazz a one-armed hug and an affectionate push of his field.

“Yep!” Jazz replied with an audible grin and an equally affectionate nudge. “Although I’m nowhere near as cute as you, sweetspark.”

“I suppose that’s something we’ll have to agree to disagree on,” Prowl said, took a sip of his energon and bit into one of the treats, pleasantly surprised by its taste. “This is quite good. Whose stash did you pilfer them from?”

“Pilfer, me?” Jazz said with that sparkling-like innocence he always displayed when he was guilty of something. “Why, I’d never! I’ll have ya know that I won them, fair and square!”

“Oh, is that so?” Prowl said drily. “Do I want to know how?”

“Probably not, no.”

“I suspected as much. Either way, thank you.”

“Any time, Prowler.”

The fell into a comfortable silence, their tightly knit fields communicating everything there was to say. This, too, was such a rare thing, that both of them were relaxed and at peace to such a degree that their sparks and fields synched fully, even though they weren’t physically bonded yet. As long as the war raged they simply couldn’t afford to take that risk, which made moments like this all the more precious.

The moon had moved almost 20 degrees by the time Jazz finished his second cube and sighed with a mix of satisfaction and regret.

“We have about four breems before Skyfire arrives to pick us up,” he said. “How about playing some more on the ice?”

Prowl was tempted to say no, wishing to hold on to this rare moment of one-ness for as long as possible, but he knew they had already been sitting still for much longer than Jazz normally cared for and that his mate was itching to move.

“Of course,” he said, finishing his own cube – the treats were long since gone – and moving his arm to allow Jazz to get up. The saboteur did so with a flourish and stretched in a way that looked far too sensual to be anything but deliberate, making Prowl’s vents hitch slightly. Primus, but the mech was beautiful! He knew Jazz had caught the sound when he received a wink from the gleaming visor and he was suddenly doubly grateful he wouldn’t be on shift until the next afternoon; he _very_ much wanted to have some time to indulge his mate in a more intimate way before the night was over.

That, however, would have to wait. Pushing all overly amorous thoughts back Prowl took the hand his mate offered and allowed Jazz to pull him up from the makeshift couch. Still holding hands they made their way out on the ice again. The temperature had dropped further and now and then the ice sang, an eerie and yet beautiful sound that for some reason made Prowl’s spark flutter. He knew it was caused by simple shifts of tension in the frozen water but that made it no less fascinating.

Once they reached a reasonable distance from land Prowl expected his mate to transform and resume their earlier race, but to his surprise Jazz stayed in root mode and, after a few testing moves, used one pede to give himself a little push, making him slide over the ice. After a few attempts he angled his pedes so that only the inner edge touched the ice and then started to move around Prowl, still holding his hands so the Praxian ended up spinning slowly more or less on the spot. As dances went it was clumsy and inelegant but it was _theirs_ and that made it beautiful.

“Look,” Jazz suddenly said and stopped his circling, just barely managing to avoid losing his footing. He let go of one of Prowl’s hands and pointed to the north where a ribbon of slithering light had appeared in the sky. It started out as green but then shifted to teal, magenta, purple and then back to teal before disappearing. Then a second string appeared, and a third, until the sky was ablaze with dancing lights. The clear ice caught the colours and mirrored them, making the pair feel as if they were standing inside a living rainbow.

“Wow,” Jazz whispered, captivated by the sight. “Hound told me ya can see Northern Lights here sometimes but the odds of us catchin’ them…”

Prowl simply nodded, just as fascinated as Jazz. Then turned to look into his mate’s visor, smiling as he saw the dancing lights reflected even there. Unpredictable. Elusive. Enigmatic. Beautiful.

Just like Jazz.

“Thank you,” he said once more, catching his mate’s glance and letting all the love he felt for the other flow through his field. He did not need to specify further. Jazz knew.

For a moment they just stood there, holding hands and looking straight into each other’s sparks. Then the ice beneath their pedes emitted another ringing tone and Jazz turned to look at the sky again. The two phenomena, although completely unrelated, seemed to be a perfect match for one another; like a sound of light and a visual melody.

“Come,” he said, giving Prowl’s hands a slight tug. “The ice is singin’ and the sky's dancin’. Let’s join them while we have the chance.”

They would do so until Skyfire arrived.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are very much appreciated. =) Also, please take a moment to check out [this](http://larrydraws.tumblr.com/image/168902586774) amazing artwork Larrydraws made for me to go with this fic.
> 
> And lastly, if you've never heard the sound of singing ice, go check it out on Youtube. It really is an absolutely other-worldly sound!


End file.
